I pulled on my running gear as quickly as I could, then stuffed my shiny new key into my pocket and exited. I had no idea whether my Otherworldly babysitters were geared up for running or not, but it really wasn’t my problem. I shrugged to myself. If they could keep up, then bully for them. Without acknowledging their hovering presence on the other side of the street, I started to jog, slowly at first to warm up. One of the major drawbacks of living in a city was the number of roads and traffic lights that I’d be forced to wait for, so it made no sense to start pelting my way along in a sprint. At least there was a sizeable park not too far away.
It took around fifteen minutes to reach the park itself. The sky was already starting to darken, despite the fact that it was now summer and the nights were considerably lighter. It didn’t really make much difference to my run, but it might make it harder for my little troupe of followers to keep up. I grinned slightly to myself and began to speed up.
The park was fairly busy: numerous families out enjoying the last of the daylight, groups of kids playing games, and, of course, several joggers on the same track as myself. I did my best to ignore them, not wanting others to set a pace for me, and stayed on the tarmacked path for a while, but with the night drawing in it was becoming too annoying having to keep veering out of the path of those leaving so eventually I gave up and moved onto the grass. I cut round the bend, skirting the large trees then began to run more cross-country. It felt much more peaceful this way and I could almost imagine I was no longer in London, but instead out in the fresh air of the countryside. Keeping my breathing even, I picked up the pace further, and allowed my mind to empty. A couple of rabbits saw me coming and quickly scampered out of my way, dashing into nearby burrows. Other than that, and the distant hum of traffic, I felt as if I was completely alone.
Of course that was until I caught the flicker of green out of the edge of my eye. I frowned. It was too ephemeral and just too green to be a jogger. And there was no way that a tree or a bush moved like that. Interested, I headed in the direction of it. A small thought nagged at me that curiosity killed the cat, but, let’s face it, I needed something to take my mind off all my other humdrum worries. However, when I reached the area where I’d thought I’d seen the flicker, there was nothing there. I heard some footsteps behind and, slowing to a jog, glanced round my shoulder. The Fae, naturally, was keeping up, although there was no sign of either the shifter or the mage. Either of them could of course draw on their Otherworldliness to produce a better showing, whether by casting a tracking spell or by shifting, but this was a pretty public area and I doubted that they would try it. Whatever might have been lingering in the trees had either been frightened off by my own approach or by the faerie’s. It was time to find out.
Without warning, I sped up again, this time using every ounce of energy that I had. I zigzagged to my right, hoping to confuse the Fae behind me. With lightning fast reflexes, there was little I could do to outrun him, but I was fairly confident that I could outsmart him. I’d been regularly using this park since we’d taken the lease over on the bookshop almost three weeks ago, and it wasn’t so large that I didn’t already know my way about it well. I knew that coming up was a small annex used to house gardener’s tools. It wasn’t the most pleasant of places and the local youths also tended to use it as a dumping ground for their discarded cans and bottles, but it would serve my purposes. I ran to the side of it, making it appear as if I was going to pass it by without a second glance, and then started to lean over to the right even more, as I knew that both the building and the trees would camouflage my actions. As soon as I thought I was hidden from view, I halted abruptly and wheeled round, stepping quietly towards the tree-lined side of the building, then pressed myself against the brickwork. Either this would work, and I’d be able to head back in the direction that I’d come to see if I could investigate the flicker further, or it wouldn’t and I’d just end up looking a bit stupid. Either way, it would make my run even more interesting.
I had made it just in time. The Fae loped past, with an even unbroken gait, and continued down the park and away from me. I punched the air in momentary exultation and then quickly pulled myself together and ran back the way I’d come, hoping I’d have a chance to find out what the flash of green had been before either the mage or the shifter finally caught up, or the Fae realised what had happened.
When I reached the trees again, I came to a stop and looked around. Shit. There was nothing there. Either it had been my stampeding approach that had scared it off or I had been seeing things. Annoyed with myself, I turned back again to leave.
“Psssst!”
I spun round. What the hell had that been? I looked left and right, but couldn’t see a damn thing. If this was going to turn out to be a kid having a laugh I was going to be seriously pissed off. Then I heard it again.
“Psssssssst!”
Dawning realisation hit me, and I slowly lifted my head to look up. My eyes narrowed as I caught sight of something hanging in the branches, cleverly camouflaged by the leafy foliage of summer. Then, all of a sudden, a small, faintly green tinged face emerged, peering down at me.
“We don’t have long before they’ll be back. I have a message to give you.”
My brow crinkled. “You’re a dryad.”
She looked irritated. “Yes, of course I’m a dryad. What did you expect?”
Well, I supposed it kind of made sense that that’s what I’d find in amongst the trees, but dryads were notoriously shy. This one clearly not so much.
I ignored her question. “What’s the message?”
“Go five hundred steps due east from the Vale of Heath sign tomorrow night after twelve. Speak with Atlanteia.”
“Who?” I was damned if I was going to go wandering around somewhere I didn’t know in the middle of the night without knowing who I was supposed to meet, or why.
“Atlanteia.”
“Yes, I got that part, but who’s she?”
The dryad looked away from me and down the path. “They’re coming. Make sure you are alone tomorrow.”
“Okay, but…”
She vanished. My eyes searched the branches for any sign of her at all; it was as if she’d never even been there in the first place. A dryad initiating contact? That had to be a first.
I felt, rather than heard, the presence of the Fae back behind me. Without turning, I pointed randomly up at a tree. “Would you believe that I think there might actually be a red squirrel up there?”
I glanced backwards. The Fae stared at me silently, ignoring the heavy pounding of feet as first the shifter, then the mage appeared.
I shrugged. “Not a nature lover then.”
He continued to stare at me. Bloody hell, give me Solus any day over this silent bugger. Speaking of…
“Can you tell Solus that I want to talk to him at his earliest convenience?”
The Fae blinked.
I sighed. “Lord Sol Apollinarius? Can you tell him?”
He jerked his chin up ever so slightly in acknowledgment. It would have to do. I could, of course, contact the Summer Queen herself. In fact, I had no doubt that she’d take my call, so to speak, but she was rather scary. I also still owed her a visit in Tir-na-Nog itself, one of the promises Solus had extracted from me long ago for his help, and I didn’t really want reminding of it. At least I knew that on my home turf I could handle Solus. I looked over at the mage and the shifter consideringly, then decided I’d get in touch with their respective organisations on my own. At the rate it had taken these two to catch up to me, I could be waiting till next week if I left it up to them. Now that I had a good reason to make them stop trailing around after me like they were the Secret Service, I wanted it done as quickly as was humanly – or, even better, Otherworldly -possible. I flashed a smile at them all, and then turned and headed for home, wondering what on earth I’d done to merit attention from the tree nymphs.
*
After jumping in the shower, then sitting back
down at my kitchen table in a pair of comfy clean pyjamas, annoying gifts pushed to one side, I mulled over who to speak to first. I was obviously going to have to wait to see if Solus showed up, assuming that his silent Fae buddy had the power of speech at all of course and actually managed to convey my message. It would be easy to get in touch with Corrigan, as all I had to do was to initiate the Voice with him. I checked the time and realised that it was getting rather late. I decided to try the Arch-Mage first.
One of the few modcons in my new little flat was a telephone. This was a fairly new experience for me as I didn’t tend to use the phone often. However, the landlord had insisted and had even gone so far as to ensure it was connected in my name. I lifted the receiver, and was about to start dialing when I realised stupidly that I didn’t have the number for the Ministry. I could hardly call up inquiries either. I imagined the conversation in my head. It would go something like me asking the operator for the number of the most powerful wizard in town and her calling the men in white coats in return. If I wandered outside and asked the mage sentry I was pretty sure that I could get hold of the right phone number, but I’d either have to pull on some clothes first or display the fact that the sole terrifying Draco Wyr in existence was wearing a pink Hello Kitty two set. Nope, that wasn’t going to happen. I pursed my lips, then stood up and padded into the living room instead and plonked myself down on the sofa, flipping open my laptop.
I’d been too busy finding somewhere to stay and helping Mrs. Alcoon set up the shop to log onto the Othernet recently. Feeling the tug of curiosity as to what was going on in the world, I cast my eye over the headline pages. For the first couple of weeks after I’d left the mages’ academy, I’d been terrified that some Otherworldly gossip columnist would proclaim the events that had resulted in Brock and Thomas’ deaths to the world, along with my so-called secret identity. As time had gone by, however, and there was nothing to speak of other than a couple of stories detailing the event as a ‘tragic accident’, I’d begun to relax somewhat. Despite the passage of time, I remained nervous every time I logged on, and was immensely relieved that there was still nothing further. The last thing I needed was even more people finding out what I really was. Rather than screaming headlines about dragons, there was something to do with a magical explosion up in Birmingham, that the Ministry had been forced to act quickly to cover up before the local police got too interested, and an unpleasant story about some desecrated Otherworld graves in Paris. I proudly resisted the temptation to click onto the society pages to check out the photos of Corrigan and his various dates to do some investigation into whether Tom was right about them, and instead typed in a query for the Ministry’s phone number instead.
Several answers appeared quickly on my screen, and I scrolled down until I found one that looked like it might be right, then picked the phone back up and jabbed the numbers in.
The phone rang several times before someone picked up. “Charter College,” answered a bored voice.
“Um, hi,” I said. “This is Mack Smith, I’d like to talk to…,”
The phone clicked. I started for a moment, staring at the receiver, then a familiar baritone voice filled the line.
“Mackenzie,” echoed the overly warm tones of the Arch-Mage. “How are you? Did you receive my little gift?”
I thought about the gleaming coffee machine on my kitchen table. “Er, yes. Thanks.”
“I knew you had a penchant for coffee from the time you spent with us, so I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“Yeah, don’t fucking do that again though.”
There was a moment of silence. Then, “I beg your pardon?”
“Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to be nice and all, but let’s not forget that you’re the people who effectively tortured me then forced me to go back to school. That didn’t exactly turn out so well for any of us.”
The Arch-Mage coughed. “Mackenzie, I can only apologise if you feel any antagonism towards us for past events. Let me make it make it up to you.”
“Cut the bullshit,” I said, firmly. “What you should have said is that I deserved to be beaten up by your goons because I broke into your headquarters. And that sending me to the academy was the best way to help me understand my powers. That if you’d known the full truth then things would have been different.”
“Well, I, yes, that’s what…”
“Get a grip. You’re playing all nice now because you want to have me in your back pocket. Well, buying me things isn’t going to achieve that. Neither is following me around all fucking day long either.”
Thankfully for my sanity, the Arch-Mage reverted to his former self and a note of haughtiness exerted itself through the phone. “We’re hardly going to let the shifters and the faeries follow you around and know what you’re doing, when we don’t.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be having words with them too. But I need you to back off. I like you, and I like the Ministry, and I will help you out if you need me to. For now, quit pissing around and give me some peace.”
“Fine,” said the Arch-Mage stiffly.
“Thank you.” I could afford to be gracious now that I had what I wanted. “I read about what happened in Birmingham with the explosion. Is everything alright?”
“We believe the situation was contained.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” I wanted to ask him what had happened to the Palladium too, the small ancient wooden statue that had caused so many problems a few months before. I was a bit of afraid of the answer though, and rather worried that, despite my exhortations to the opposite, the Arch-Mage would offer to give it to me as a present. I didn’t want that chunk of wood anywhere near me ever again. I chickened out.
“Well then, I’m sure I’ll be speaking to you soon.”
“I do hope so, Miss Mackenzie.” The Arch-Mage hung up.
I wondered how annoyed he was with me, then put the phone down and decided he’d just have to deal with it. One down. Two to go.
Next up was Corrigan. I took a deep breath and told myself firmly that it was important to retain the same modicum of business-like conversation that I’d had with the Arch-Mage. Easy.
Corrigan? Are you available right now? There. That was an appropriately perfunctory opening.
There was a moment of silence before he answered back in my head. Kitten, for you I’m always available.
Fuck. The way he’d purred the last word made my imagination go to places that I didn’t need it to. Stay focused, Mack. I need you to back off.
Whatever do you mean?
I appreciate that you fixed my door.
Did you like the colour? I thought it would suit you.
It’s great, I shot back flatly. But enough. You can’t just let the pack wander into my flat whenever they want to. It’s my flat. And you can’t give me flowers. And you can’t follow me around any more.
He didn’t immediately reply. There was a knock on my front door, a rap that seemed to be beating out some kind of tune. I walked out and opened it up, and took in Solus standing just on the edge of the threshold wearing some kind of black as night kilt, with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned virtually to his stomach. For goodness’ sake. I beckoned him inside without saying anything. A lazy smile crossed his features and he opened his mouth to speak, but I shushed him and pointed him towards the kitchen table. He shrugged and wandered over, pulling out a chair then flipping out the back of his kilt with a flourish to sit down.
Corrigan? Are you still there?
His reply was dangerously quiet. You didn’t like the flowers?
It’s not that I didn’t like them. It’s that you forced the mages and the faeries into thinking that they had to give me gifts too. I’m not about to prostitute myself out to the highest bidder.
I don’t care what they do. I only care what you do.
Well, what I do is enjoy going about my daily life without constantly being interrupted.
Like you’ve just been interrupted by that faerie
?
That explained the long drawn out silence then. The shifter that was watching had clearly informed Corrigan about my visitor.
This is exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t track my every single movement. I need some privacy, Corrigan. And, for your information, he’s here so that I can tell him exactly the same thing that I’m telling you.
To not give you flowers?
I sighed in exasperation. To give me some peace and stop following me around or giving me expensive presents.
I could sense waves of silent menace emanating from him. What did he give you?
Again with the privacy invasion. I’m not saying I’m going to ignore you, Corrigan, I just need some space. Not just from you but from everyone.
And what if something attacks you because they know that you’re a dragon and they have decided that your head would look good on their wall?
Technically, my Lord Alpha, I’m not a dragon – I’m a Draco Wyr. Plus, I think I’ve proven that I can look after myself.
I waited for a moment, crossing my fingers. Solus noticed the gesture and raised his eyebrows in mocking amusement. I glared at him.
Fine, kitten. I will do as you wish if you grant me but one boon.
Name it, I answered rashly without thinking.
Dinner. Saturday night. I will come and pick you up. He then immediately broke off the connection, before I could protest otherwise. Outfuckingstanding.
“His Lord Furriness, I presume?” drawled Solus.
I nodded, distracted, then sat down on a chair opposite the Fae.
“You really need to get him out of your system, dragonlette. Just fuck him and be done with it.” He watched my reaction carefully.
I made sure not to give him any satisfaction by reacting and kept my face pointedly blank. “Thanks for coming, Solus.”
Blood Politics (Blood Destiny 4) Page 4
